The Beginning of The End
Warning: This story is a cross of Final Destination and Warriors, and is not suitable for people who dislike gory stories. Reader discretion is advised. Characters Vixenfur: Red brown she-cat with white tipped tail, formerly of WindClan Lakewhisker: Silver and white tabby she-cat, formerly of RiverClan Thistlefang: Gray-white tom with dark blue eyes, formerly of RiverClan Sandtalon: Pale brown tabby tom with green eyes, formerly of ThunderClan Morningpaw: Golden ginger she-cat with green eyes, formerly of ThunderClan Heathermoon: White she-cat with golden yellow eyes, formerly of ShadowClan Snowkit: Silver-white tom with black dapples, formerly of ShadowClan Ashstorm: Dark gray tom with white paws and blue eyes, formerly of ShadowClan Prolouge ~ The Black Fire The world was on fire. All around the lake, cats were fleeing. Borders could have been nonexistent for all they cared. They ran like startled rabbits, desperately trying to outpace the burning fire that licked at their heels. A tabby queen crouched over her wailing kits, her jaws parted in a caterwaul of terror as a burning tree fell on top of them. No noise came from between the flaming branches. Two apprentices streaked across the hot ground side by side, hoping to make it to the lake. But the smallest, a soot-gray tom, tripped on the roots of a tree. The second stopped to nudge her companion to his paws, just as the fire raged over their heads and consumed them. A lone tortoiseshell she-cat ran towards her apprenticed kits, desperately trying to reach them before a flaming branch or lone brand of fire reached them. But a bulky gray tom rammed into her, knocking her off her paws and striking her head on a rock. As she lay, dazed, fire sparked her pelt and took her life. Her kits stared in stunned silence, unsure of what to do. As the cats pelted desperately for the moors, to safe ground, very little made it. Most were struck by falling trees, too slow to outrun the flames, or cut down by other cats trying to save their lives. A pawful of cats made it to safety. One lone WindClan cat, two RiverClan and two ThunderClan, and three ShadowClan. The rest burned to death, along with every Clan territory, every bush and tree and living animal in the woods. The time of the Clans had come to an end. Chapter One ~ After The Storm Heathermoon stood at the top of one of WindClan's moors, watching the land burn beneath her. She felt numb. There was the ThunderClan-ShadowClan border. She could see the dark pelt of a cat, engulfed in flames, flailing in the grasses. And there, on the pebbly shore, a small cat was trapped from the safety of water by a burning tree. And she could tell there was still cats in the ThunderClan camp, trapped in the hollow while fire poored in freely. Everything that the Clans had lived for was gone. The RiverClan territory had finally stopped burning, the fire having moved on, and there was nothing but blackened earth, scattered with smudges of white that, Heathermoon realized with a churning stomach, were the bones of cats too slow to beat the flame. The fire was almost done eating away at ShadowClan's pine forest. She could still hear the sharp popping noise of pine needles as they burned. She hadn't seen anyone that had made it out alive yet. Her heart felt cold and heavy. "Hey." Heathermoon whipped around, the sudden voice startling. Ashstorm stood a little ways away, a squirming, soot-streaked kit at his paws. Heathermoon's already-heavy heart dropped down into a dark abyss. Heathermoon got along with everybody in her Clan - except for Ashstorm. If him and this unidentified kit were the only survivors, they were sure to claw eachother's throats out. "Hey." Heathermoon's voice cracked from smoke inhalation. "Anyone else?" Ashstorm looked at his paws and shook his head. "I searched everywhere. I only found Snowkit, huddled against Silverwing." That was Snowkit? He looked like another cat, pelt clogged with soot. Heathermoon curled her tail around the tiny, shivering kit and stared deep into Ashstorm's eyes. "So...what do we do now?" Chapter Two ~ Starting Over Vixenfur hadn't stopped running. Her paws beat in a steady rhythim, faltering only when she tripped. Her throat burned, her lungs ached, and her legs had long since gone numb. But she couldn't stop. Fear drove her on. She thought she could feel hot flames licking at her heels, but knew she left the flames behind long ago. Vixenfur was the only survivor from WindClan, she knew that much. Only three cats had even made it out of the camp before fire lit the grass, and she had watched the other two die. She was alone. Vixenfur forced her legs faster, though her heart threatened to burst. She had no choice. Bam! Something small and ginger slammed into her from the side, knocking her off her feet. Vixenfur found enough oxygen in her to yowl, and struggled to free her legs from the spindly golden ones that tangled with hers. "Oof!" A voice squeaked. "You kicked me in the belly!" Vixenfur gave a final tug and tumbled away from the small she-cat. She cast a worried glance over her shoulder, but all she could see of the fire was a red-orange glow. She sat, hunched over, catching her breath desperately. Vixenfur's red-brown pelt was matted with ash and soot, darker in some places with blood. She trembled and looked up to the small white cat. "Vixenfur of WindClan." "Morningpaw of ThunderClan." Her warm green eyes glowed in the oncoming darkness as she looked down at her gray-smudged fur. "I think I'm the only one who made it." Her thin shoulders shook. "Nope." Morningpaw twisted around to look over her shoulder at a brown tabby tom who'd just padded up. "Sandtalon!" She squeaked, scrambling to her paws and pressing her nose to his. "Is anyone else with you?" Morningpaw looked around the bare moors, hope in her green eyes. "If you mean Sunpaw, no. I'm sorry, Morningpaw, I couldn't save your brother." Her eyes darkened, but she nodded. "You three!" Vixenfur looked up to see two cats standing on the hill above of them. They raced down to meet them, thin tails streaming behind them. A white she-cat and a dark gray tom, a sooty kit dangling from the she-cats jaws. "I'm Heathermoon," She white she-cat panted, laying the kit down. "This is Ashstorm and Snowkit." "Vixenfur." "Morningpaw!" The golden ginger she-cat chirped, in a tone undampened by the tragedy she'd just survived. "Sandtalon," The brown tom rumbled. Heathermoon's eyes clouded. "Are we all that's left?" She whispered, tail tighening around Snowkit. Morningpaw's eyes drifted to the river. "Look!" She pointed with her tail to two figures paddling fiercely through the waves. They hauled themselves out of the water, and Sandtalon let out a caterwaul to get their attention. The two cats raced up the hill, the gray and white she-cat limping heavily on one leg. They called themselves Lakewhisker and Thistlefang. "We're all that's left?" Ashstorm's croaky voice was harsh in the sudden silence. The fire was over, but the damage was permanent. Chapter Three ~ Beyond Repair "But why do we have to find a new home, Sandtalon? We should all stay together!" Sandtalon's low whisper was lost as the two ThunderClan cats disappeared in the tree line. Thistlefang sighed and rubbed a paw across his eyes. The cats that survived were all breaking apart, going to live with their own Clanmates somewhere else. Morningpaw and Sandtalon had just gone into the forest, the ShadowClan cats had doubled back to see if any pine forest beyond ShadowClan territory was inhabitable, and the lone WindClan cat, Vixenfur, had disappeared over the crest of a hill. Only him and Lakewhisker remained, sitting on the grass and panting while their wet pelts dried. "At least we got most of the soot off." Lakewhisker's voice trembled. Thistlefang couldn't believe how lucky he was. Both him and his sister had managed to make it out of the flames...even if their elderly mother had been consumed by flame. His belly clenched at the thought of Mosstail crouching in the elders den, trapped, wailing as her fur caught fire and burned her flesh. Thistlefang shuddered and moved closer to Lakewhisker. "Where should we den for the night?" He whispered, standing and shaking out his pale pelt. Lakewhisker shrugged. "We could head for the marsh, beyond RiverClan territory," She murmured, licking one silver-striped paw. Thistlefang nodded, and the two siblings limped towards the charred shell of RiverClan territory. "I don't want to look," Lakewhisker whimpered, pressing her eyes into Thistlefang's shoulder. One look at their home and he didn't blame her. All the reeds were burned away, the river a harsh silver slice through the blackened ground. The scraggly bushes Thistlefang had come to love were nothing but blacked fingers of wood, and the widely spaced trees were black skeletons, still puffing smoke into the sky. Thistlefang let his vision blur til he could see nothing blue blue and black, and let his paws carry him to the marsh. "Wait!" Lakewhisker yelped, her head shooting upright. "We could go for the island. The tree-bridge would've burned, but the island itself should be safe!" Thistlefang changed course and the two were at the old Gathering site in no time. The tree bridge, though still there, was obviously unsafe, so the two RiverClan cats waded through the water to the island. Exhausted, they dragged themselves into the bracken. "Here," Thistlefang murmured. The roots of a tree were heavily padded with moss. Lakewhisker collapsed into the natural bowl-shape, scooching over to make room for Thistlefang. He spiraled down into the nest, pressing close to Lakewhisker and laying his tail over his nose. Before long, his sister's breathing slowed with sleep, but Thistlefang was still wide-awake. He lifted his head to the stars, visible through the large gap in the trees. "Oh, StarClan," He whispered, his heart already longing for the normality of RiverClan. "What have you done?" Chapter Four ~ The Aftershock Ashstorm kept watch while Heathermoon and Snowkit snoozed in the cover of a spindly bush. Heathermoon had licked all the clotted ash out of Snowkit's gray fur, but her own white fur was still sooty. Ashstorm had hauled himself up a pine tree - they'd had to travel far beyond the territory to find trees untouched by disaster - and settled into a crook, making sure no stray foxes or badgers or cats came close to them. Heathermoon was too exhausted to be of any help in a fight, so it was up to Ashstorm to protect them. But Ashstorm couldn't ignore the fact that he was tired, too. His legs ached, his eyes slipped close without his permission. To keep himself away, he began the tedious task of grooming the ground in soot in his fur. It was tangy on his tongue, and made him cough, but he kept on until he'd gotten the majority of junk out of his fur. A twig snapped below. Ashstorm froze and slowly peeked over the edge of his branch. A russet shape loomed threateningly over Heathermoon, a low growl in it's throat. A fox. With an outraged shriek, Ashstorm dropped on the skinny shoulders of the fox. It barked with surprise and arched it's back, driving it's spine into Ashstorm's belly. He hissed and dropped off it's back, swiping at it's legs. It snarled with rage and batted at Ashstorm with enough force to bowl him over. This fox was starving, but summoned up enough power to fight for it's food. And it wanted Snowkit. Heathermoon had gotten to her paws, and while the fox was busy with Ashstorm, she dropped on it's haunches. It yelped and whirled, but she let go and raked it's muzzle as it swiveled to face her. The fox wailed and staggered back, right into Ashstorm's waiting claws; he swiped it's legs out from under it, and it hit the ground wtih a thud. Instead of frightening the fox of, they'd just aggitated it. The orange fox got to it's paws, lips peeled back from it's teeth in a yellow snarl. It lunged at Heathermoon, and she fainted to the side to avoid it's snapping jaws. But the fox ducked away from Heathermoon - who'd left Snowkit unprotected. The fox snapped it's jaws over Snowkit's neck before either warrior realized what it was doing. Snowkit's wail echoed earily off the trees, cutting off abruptly with a snap. "No!" Heathermoon wailed, leaping at the fox. But it was too late. The fox dropped Snowkit's limp body with a throaty bark, and disappeared into the night. Heathermoon crouched over Snowkit, her tail trembling. "Is he okay?" Ashstorm croaked, shaking orange fur from her claws. Heathermoon stifled a sob. "He's dead. We're all that's left of ShadowClan." Chapter Five ~ One by One Coming soon!